


Romantic Customs

by supersmashpotatoes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All set in the same AU, F/F, First Date, Fluff and Humor, Just all around wholesomeness, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, One Shot Collection, The Magic Number talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersmashpotatoes/pseuds/supersmashpotatoes
Summary: “Monty,” Lexa greets, nodding her head and taking careful care to pronounce the name correctly.“Heda,” the man bows his own head, diverting his attention only for that brief moment before turning back to the greens he is caring for.“I am sure your so called ‘friends’ have told you of my inquiry.”“You want to marry Clarke,” Monty says.“Yes. I know you to be clever and kind. I trust you will offer me true advice.”Monty drops the leaf he had been examining. “You must get on one knee,” he says. “And you must offer up a plant.”—OR: Lexa wants to marry Clarke the proper Skaikru way. It doesn’t help that all the Skaikru she knows are incompetent idiots incapable of giving her advice.+ Other One Shots Set In the Same AU
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 31
Kudos: 477





	1. Marriage Proposal

Lexa clears her throat, one hand twisting and turning her pocket knife nervously. Lincoln and Octavia of the sky people both stand in front of her, patient as they wait for their Heda to speak.

“I am curious of some of your romantic customs,” Lexa says. She waits for Octavia’s nod, then continues. “We trikru build a home, to express our desire to build a family. What would a skaikru do, if they were in such a position?”

Octavia squeezes the hilt of her sword, trying to look anywhere but at the knife moving with increasing speed or the commander, looking much too regal for a girl who’s probably asking her the appropriate way to wed her best friend.

“You mean, how do we tell our partner we want to have a child?”

The knife stops moving, and sinks in to the arm of Heda’s throne. “No,” Lexa says blankly. “That is not at all what i asked.”

Octavia winces, and Lincoln takes pity on her. “Heda, i think Octavia is the wrong person to ask about this.”

“I lived underneath the floor for sixteen years,” Octavia pipes up nervously.

“Perhaps i could take you to someone who is a bit wiser on the subject?” Lincoln suggests.

Lexa hums. “Bring them to me,” She decides.

“So, i hear you wanna know how to court a woman.”

Lexa stands still, tries to channel all her anger into the curve of her jaw as she clenches it. She tries to remember Clarke’s threats when she tried to assasinate Octavia, how she backed her into a table. How she is currently trying to do the opposite of angering Clarke.

“Yes.”

“Okay, jot this down.” 

Lexa sighs and trumps a path to her desk, settling with a piece of parchment and a quill pen. “Begin.”

“Okay, first you gotta play it sly you know, keep it on the down low.”

Lexa’s fist comes down on the wooden table. “Speak in English,” she growls.

“Okay, okay,” Raven says, a pleased smile curling at her lips now that she’s given Lexa’s back. “I’m saying— she can’t know you like her, you know? you gotta act like you kinda hate her, like she rude or sumn—“

“She is my niron,” Lexa jeers.

“Oi, this different territory dawg—”

“LEAVE MY TENT.”

Raven scurries out, holding her laughter until she is a safe distance away.

“Monty,” Lexa greets, nodding her head and taking careful care to pronounce the name correctly.

“Heda,” the man bows his own head, diverting his attention only for that brief moment before turning back to the greens he is caring for.

“I am sure your so called ‘friends’ have told you of my inquiry.”

“You want to marry Clarke,” Monty says.

“Yes. I know you to be clever and kind. I trust you will offer me true advice.”

Monty drops the leaf he had been examining. “You must get on one knee,” he says. “And you must offer up a plant.”

“A plant?” Lexa shuffles closer eagerly. This is the first helpful bit of advice she’d gotten all week.

“Yes,” Monty nods. “To symbolise growth— of love, family, and of course, crops.”

Lexa’s face falls minutely. “You’re being a fool.”

“No,” Monty insists. “It’s true. It was considered a great symbol on the Ark, representing a person who is capable of providing.”

“Fine,” Lexa accepts the reasoning skeptically. “This plant could be anything?”

“No,” Monty turns back to the plant to mask the terrible glee in his eyes. “It must be cactus.”

“Why a cactus,” Lexa asks, tone loud.

“I’m afraid i do not have the answer to that,” Monty answers. “All i know is you have to grow the cactus yourself.”

“Achievable. Provide me with the seeds, and the equipment.”

Monty disappears into a back room and comes back with a small container. “I’m afraid i can’t help you more than i already have. The custom dictates that you should navigate this journey by your own, and prove your worth.”

Lexa stretches her arm for a handshake, another Skaikru custom she’s had to learn. 

Clarke blinks down at the small cactus outstretched towards her, and at Lexa’s hopeful gaze.

“Thank you,” she says, as kindly as she can. “This is a wonderful... cactus.”

She grabs the pot from Lexa’s hands, setting it down onto the table beside her. 

Lexa hops up elegantly. “I grew it on my own,” she says, watching Clarke intently.

“That’s... amazing!” Clarke stumbles, feeling bereft.

“So you accept it? You accept my cactus? I could grow you another one, if you’d like.”

Clarke laughs, lost. “Yes Lexa, i accept your cactus.”

Lexa breaks out into a grin, reaching out to hug Clarke close. Clarke smiles into her shoulder bemusedly.

“When do you think she’ll figure it out?” Raven asks, watching with an amused tilt of her lips as Lexa drags a bewildered Clarke around to debate a spot for the cactus.

“Probably not for a long time,” Monty laughs. “At least, not until the ceremony.”

A terrible glee flares up in Raven’s eyes. “Oh, it’s going to be amazing.”


	2. First Date ( Part One )

Lexa feels like a goufa again, zoning out during lessons to plan what she’d say to Costia when she next sees her, or tripping over herself because a pretty girl is watching her train. Except now the pretty girl is Clarke, and Lexa has witnessed nearly twenty one summers but absolutely nothing of what the woman asks of her makes sense.

“A date,” Lexa repeats, fingers curling around the hilt of her sword and squeezing.

Clarke nods. “I’m not just going to be your  niron just like that,” Clarke laughs, as if she’s just been proposed a preposterous idea.

“Yes,” Lexa forces a laugh of her own, “Of course not.”

“So, just tell me the details,” Clarke starts backing away, finger pointed at Lexa. “And i’ll be there.”

“The details.” Lexa nods. “Of a date. Right. Ofcourse.”

Lexa goes through her meetings effeciently, settling disputes between clans and looking over Indra’s defense plans with her full attention. 

By the last meeting she’s let her mind wander, anxious to begin her plans. The ambassadors of skaikru enter the room, Clarke at the helm.

Lexa resists the urge to stand, maintaing her posture as Clarke’s mother and Kane enter the room behind her.

They discuss trade opportunities, Abby passionately declaring her plans to open a hospital and Kane discussing schooling opportunities for the children. 

Clarke idles behind them, chin resting on her fist as she watches Lexa raptly, a distracting tilt in her lips. 

Lexa agrees to everything that is said, can feel the amusement radiatating off of Clarke but she doesn’t care. The meeting is done in almost no time, and Abby and Kane share a befuddled look as they leave the room.

Lexa springs off her throne, once only she and Clarke are in the room. 

“Hey,” Clarke rounds the table, fingers trailing over the edges. She stands pretty close, maybe expecting Lexa to sit back down.

Lexa remains standing, satisfied with their closeness. “Hello.”

Clarke blinks at her, but seems to be pleased at their positions. “How’s the date planning coming along?”

“The date planning,” Lexa repeats, inwardly sighing. Clarke’s choice of words leave her more confused each time. “It’s... growing.”

Clarke’s brows draw together. “You do know what a date is right?”

“Of course i know,” Lexa scoffs, shaking her head. “Don’t insult my intellegence, Clarke.”

“Oh, you big baby,” Clarke rolls her eyes, bringing a hand up to tap at Lexa’s chest. “You can admit that you don’t know. It’s not going to kill you.”

“I know what a date is,” Lexa insists. “In fact, i’m heading to it right now.”

“Oh,” Clarke lifts an eyebrow. “You’re heading to the date?”

“As soon as we’re done here,” Lexa nods.

“Alright,” Clarke grins, sudden and bright. She leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m looking even more forward to it,” she says, the hand resting on Lexa’s chest pressing harder for leverage as she presses a long, lingering kiss to Lexa’s cheek.

She leaves without a look back, a laugh bursting out of her like light as she disappears out the door.

She is the sun, Lexa thinks, shivering as she sinks back onto her throne. She is sure of it.

“Good morning,” Lexa greets, feet solid and knees locked in place, no swaying or nervous shuffling and certainly no sword hilt for her to squeeze. 

“Lexa?” Clarke groans, blinking one of er bleary eyes open while the other remains shut. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m...” Lexa clears her throat, finds herself stuffing her hands into her pockets now that she’s got nothing to fiddle with. “Here for our ‘date.’ Did you forget?”

“No?” Clarke lifts her watch really close to her face. “I just didn’t think it was at... 12 am.” She looks up at Lexa, blinking again, slow. 

“Of course it starts at the beginning of the date,” Lexa says, grinning uncertainly. 

When Clarke keeps blinking at her, doorknob still in hand like she’s thinking about closing it in her face, Lexa steps back. “I can come back later,” she says, pink starting to dust her cheeks. “I thought...”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head as if snapping out of it. “No. Please, come in.”

Clarke collapses onto the couch once they’re back in her room, eyes fluttering shut. “Does this date include a nap?”

“Of course,” Lexa goes on with it, shrugging. “It’s a date.”

Clarke muffles her laughter into the cushions. “How does a 4 hour nap sound to you?”

“Agreeable,” Lexa admits. “I’m tired as well.”

“Good,” Clarke huffs, “Big’s bed— Bed’s big— for both of us.” 

She seems to have fallen asleep right after botching that sentence, so Lexa shuffles timidly to the other edge of the bed and leans her back against the headboard. 

She can’t tell if they’re doing this right.

“Lexa? Lexa, wake up.  Lexa.”

Lexa jolts from her sleep, ripped out of her dreamscape and thrust into the real world. Clarke smiles at her before heading to the couch, newly clothed and fresh faced.

“I overslept,” Lexa realizes, glancing outside the window.

“Yeah. Guessing that doesn’t happen very often?”

“No. Never.”

“I had them bring up some breakfast,” Clarke gestures for Lexa to join her. She’s smiley today, all quirked lips and bright eyes. Lexa follows her command.

“So what’re we doing today?” Clarke pops a grape into her mouth with an audible sound, eyes widening as she bites into it. “Oh these are really good.”

“They are especially made from my farm in tonDC,” Lexa tests the grapes herself, humming approvingly.

“You own a farm?” 

“It used to be my mother’s,” Lexa presses her fingers into the peaches gently until she finds the perfect one, handing it to Clarke with a smile. She tries not to focus too much on the fact that their fingers brush, or the way Clarke’s teeth sink into the fruit. “That is where we are going today.”

“Oh,” Clarke quirks her brows, her surprise making Lexa uneasy. “That’s fun.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect,” Clarke assuress her. “When are we going?”

“Whenever you’d like.”

Clarke blushes, glancing at the bowl of fruit at the edge of her eyesight. “Maybe right after breakfast.”

It’s only 4 am, and the sky is still cycling through nighttime but it’s light enough that they can see. Clarke and Lexa walk side by side, so close that their hands keep brushing. 

“I’ve never seen you dressed like this,” Clarke leans closer, tugs at the helm of Lexa’s long sleeved shirt. It’s maroon instead of her usual black, a burst of color.

“I wore it for you,” Lexa admits. She’s baren of her armor, of her cog, of her weapons- save for a dagger tugged into her boots. 

“I like it,” Clarke smiles soft, eyes trailing over Lexa as if she’s just realised the state she’s in. “I wish i could’ve dressed up for you,” she says, looking down at herself. “But i don’t really have any clothes.”

“You can have mine, once you are my niron,” Lexa simpers.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Stop it.”

“Or you can have your own, if you’d like,” Lexa continues. “The finest Polis has to offer.”

“We’ll see how this goes,” Clarke mutters, but she shuffles even closer, as if resigning to her fate.

“How far is this farm?” Clarke asks, realizing that they’re headed to the stables. 

“A little more than an hour by horse back.”

Lexa opens the gate for her, waiting for her to pass before closing it again. The guard is a young boy who doesn’t seem to realize who they are, sparing them only a glance.

Lexa’s horse is a grey, frumpy looking thing, with white hooves and hair. Clarke approaches her tentatively as Lexa prepares a saddle for their ride and rests a hand on her nose. The horse huffs and blinks lazily.

“What’s her name?” 

“Name?” Lexa grunts as she heaves the saddle. “ Gapa .”

“No, i mean like his name. Like how you’re Lexa.”

Lexa snorts, stepping back and brushing her hands against the horse’s sides. “Horses don’t have names.”

Clarke looks into its black, bulging eyes. “I’m gonna call you Grey,” she decides. “‘Cus you’re old and grumpy. Like your Mom.”

“I’m not old,” Lexa grumbles, gesturing for Clarke to come over to her side. 

Clarke puts one foot over the stirrups and, with the help of Lexa’s hands heaving her up by the waist, scrambles up onto Grey’s back. 

“How old are you anyways?” Clarke calls out, Lexa having disappeared back into the cabin. She emerges with a worn out bag and straps it to the horse. “I never thought to ask.”

“21 Summers,” Lexa answers. She pushes at Clarke’s hips until she scooches forward, and then heaves a deep breath as she settles onto the saddle behind her.

Clarke clears her throat. “Oh. We’re riding together.”

“Yes,” Lexa adjusts behind her, pressed to her back and arms coming up on either of her sides to grasp the reins. “I thought it would be romantic. It’s a short ride.”

“It’s definitely romantic,” Clarke murmurs, Lexa’s waist shifting against her back as she urges the horse forward. They head out the gates.


	3. First Date ( Part Two )

Lexa’s front brushes against her back with every movement of the horse’s hooves. The sun comes up midway through their ride, which Clarke spends perpetually blushing as they navigate between different topics of conversation. Lexa asks Clarke to describe her.

“Imperious,” Clarke says, and Lexa looks down, the start of a sigh building up in her chest, until— “Beautiful,” Clarke adds.

Lexa’s back tenses eagerly, jostling Clarke with the motion. “Intelligent, valiant,” Clarke turns to her, grinning. “Cute. Really cute.”

“I’m not cute, Clarke,” Lexa grumbles, though there is a pleased smile displayed brazenly on her lips.

“Stubborn,” Clarke continues. “That’s the biggest one.”

Lexa shrugs, accepting.

“What about me?” Clarke asks, resting some of her weight against Lexa’s strong frame.

Lexa sighs, lines appearing between her brows as she thinks. “I couldn’t even begin to try describing you.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Flatterer,” she accuses. “Try.”

“You’re like the sun,” Lexa decides, looking off to the horizon.

“Because of my hair?”

“Well, that— but also. You shine.”

Clarke shrugs, unable to deliver any kind of quip in the face of honesty Lexa is displaying.

“You’re brave. The bravest— braver than any soldier under my command. And you’re stubborn, too. Remember that toxin, before the peace treaty? You made it bow for you.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Clarke chuckles, cheeks glowing pink. 

“Not nearly,” Lexa turns to her, smiling.

Clarke’s always thought of Lexa as pretty, yes, in a regal sort of way- but never like this. She helps Clarke down from the horse, hands gripping her waist as she slides Clarke down against her body. Clarke coughs awkwardly, steps back to watch Lexa tie the horse to a wooden pole.

The sky is pink, the way it never appeared from the Ark, and Lexa is barren of armor and her hair is in two twin braids on either side of her head. Her shirt is maroon and her lips are pouty and she’s just- really pretty. Clarke feels something shift inside her.

“You ready?” Lexa turns to her, offering her arm. Clarke takes it, and they walk really close as they near a little house, almost identical to the ones next to it except for the fact that it’s paint isn’t chipping and it looks well taken care of.

“I used to live here,” Lexa explains, holding the door open for her. The inside is completely empty, and the ground is made of wood that isn’t properly nailed to the floor and wiggles with every step. There are multiple doors, which Clarke assumes lead to a room and maybe a kitchen or a bathroom. 

“Where’s your mom?” Clarke whispers, clutching harder around Lexa’s arm as she’s lead to one of doors. 

“She died, a long time ago.” Lexa says succinctly. Clarke decides not to push- first date, and all.

When they walk through the door, they’re immediately greeted by a brood of chickens colliding with their legs as they scatter past. 

It’s huge, and beautiful, and Clarke is hit with a sudden ache in her chest. Lexa leads her from the chicken coop, talking about fighting with the chicken hen for eggs and helping her mother chase after them for a bath, and to the variety of trees and plants, each one equipped with a different story.

Finally, they reach the end of the estate. There’s a table set just beside a row of palm trees. Lexa leads her there by the hand, settles in across from her.

“Dates,” Clarke states, looking at the three bowls in front of her. 

“Yes,” Lexa says. “I prefer the fresh ones like these,” Lexa points to two colorful bowls. “My mother preferred the red ones. I like the yellow ones more.“

This is killing Clarke. Really, truly, it is. “Lexa,” She says seriously. “It’s custom to kiss your partner at the end of a first date. But I’d like to kiss you now.”

“Oh, okay,” Lexa says, blinking like it’s not a big deal, but when Clarke reaches over to curl her hand around her neck she jumps from her chair, scattering the dates everywhere. She presses their lips together, Clarke giggling into the kiss, and it’s clumsy but sure and nothing like what Clarke thought Lexa would be.

“So, tell me the truth,” Clarke says once they’ve detached. “Did you really know what a date was, before all this?”

Lexa hesitates, clearly unwilling to tell the truth, so Clarke scooches closer, her hand going to play with Lexa’s fingers. Lexa glanced down at it. “No.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“I snuck into the sacred temple’s library, got a  dictionary,”  Lexa says it surely, but she pronounces it dick—tee—yona—airy. Clarke lets the edge of her lips curl up in a smile. 

She reaches into her pocket, takes out a piece of parchment and smoothes it out on the table. The ink on it is smudged, the letters shaky- Clarke is beginning to realise Lexa is not at all who she thought she was.

“I thought this one would be the most likely one,” Lexa taps at the first line.  A social or romantic appointment or engagement. “ But there was also this one.”  The day of the month or year as specified by a number. “ And dates,” Lexa gestures towards the fruit. “So i combined the three.”

Clarke laughs. “So you showed up at midnight, you took me here, and you fed me dates.”

“Yes,” Lexa shrugs. “Did I do good?”

Clarke has no idea what to say. “You did great,” she finally ends up with, and pairs it with a long, warm kiss when it feels inadequate. “You got a bed in this house?”


	4. The Magic Number

“I will admit i have had previous sexual partners.”

“Alright,” Clarke drawls. “How many?”

Lexa turns to her, surprised. “You wish to know?”

“Yeah,” Clarke nods.

“Well,” Lexa trails off, jaw working uselessy. “Uh.... why?”

Clarke sighs, scoots closer until she can throw one leg over Lexa’s torso and straddle her hips. She leans down, hands going to both her wrists as she hovers over her face. “Just tell me.”

Lexa swallows, Clarke’s eyes following the motion. “As you wish.”

Contrary to her words, Lexa remains quiet, her hips shifting beneath Clarke’s. Clarke sighs, “Why don’t you wanna tell me?”

“It’s just... we don’t usually speak of it. in our culture.”

“Okay,” Clarke concedes, though her face scrunches up. “You don’t have to.”

They’re quiet again, Lexa looking up at Clarke, pretty the way she is when she is unsure about something.

“Why do you ask me this?” She asks eventually, quirking her head to the side.

“I just wonder sometimes,” Clarke says quietly, eyes glued to their intertwined hands. “I want to know everything about you. Is that so bad?”

“No.” Lexa admits. Her fingers struggle around Clarke’s until they’re wrapped around her wrists, using them as leverage to twist their bodies. Clarke falls against the pillows, Lexa nudging forward to tangle a hand in her sunshine hair. “It might help,” she mentions. “If you tell me first.”

Clarke hums, legs coming up to wrap Lexa close. “Finn,” she says, staring up at the ceiling. “He was my first.”

“Was it good?” Lexa asks, her hips shifting again to press down on Clarke’s.

“A little. For the first time,” Clarke shrugs, nudging the blankets away so she can touch down Lexa’s back. “Then there was Niylah, which was  really good, ”  Clarke smiles, a lone finger trailing down Lexa’s spine. “And then some guy, during the spring festival last year. I think his name was Ryder.”

Lexa makes a noise somewhere deep in her throat, hips baring down again. Clarke’s finger stops in its path just below her lower back, hand spreading out over the muscle. “Focus,” She admonishes, a hand curling in her brown locks and tugging. “Your turn.”

Lexa groans, collapses atop Clarke, lips pressed to her throat. “There was Costia,” she murmurs, holding onto Clarke’s hips. “And Shay, a bartender from shadow valley.”

“That’s it?” Clarke quirks a brow down at her. “Why’d you make it sound so much worse?”

Lexa groans again, stopping the path of her hands towards Clarke’s stomach. “Clarke, i don’t wish to speak of this anymore.”

“God, why do you have to be so annoying,” Clarke squirms, pushing Lexa off gently. “I just want to  talk .”

“Clarke, i don’t want to talk  right now .”

“Then when!” Clarke snaps. “You never want to talk. You’re always busy, or in a meeting, or fucking training—“

“Okay!” Lexa closes her eyes, holds her hands out placatingly. She can feel the tethers snapping and she’s desperate to pull them together again. “I also slept with Luna.”

“Luna?” Clarke halts. “Isn’t she a nightblood?”

“Yes. Nightbloods aren’t supposed to sleep with other nightbloods. But we did.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Clarke asks softly.

“Of course i do,” Lexa says, looking her right in the eyes. “I just don’t like you to know things. That can be— held up against you.”

Clarke remembers Costia, and feels a pang of guilt in her stomach. “Lexa,” she whispers, pulling her down into a hug. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that,” Lexa croaks, mouth damp against Clarke’s collarbone. 

“Yes i do,” Clarke pulls back, swipes Lexa’s hair away from her face as she cups her cheeks. “We’re at peace, and we—  you are taking measures to ensure it stays that way.”

Lexa’s eyes turn big and questioning. “You’re protecting me,” Clarke continues. “But you don’t need to protect me from yourself. If we’re going to do this, we either do it at a 100 or nothing at all.”

“Sorry,” Lexa sighs.

“No, i’m sorry,” Clarke says. “I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

“Relationships involve a lot of talking,” Lexa states, a little petulant pout adorning her lips.

“If you don’t want to,” Clarke teases, pulling back from where their limbs are entertwined. Lexa growls, lunging to press her down again while Clarke laughs.

“I want to,” she insists.

“So...” Clarke tilts her neck back, Lexa nipping gently at the muscle. “Who’s your best?”

Lexa leans back, considering. “Shay.”

Clarke gasps, shoving Lexa’s shoulder until she dissolves into giggles, bending to press a wet kiss to Clarke’s lips. “You’re my favorite,” she croons. “At everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys that’s pretty much all i have for this! But i don’t wanna let go of it just yet so if you have any prompts regarding the title (Romantic Customs), comment down below and i might write one about it! Thanks for everything.


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